


Overprotective

by s_oftboys



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, That's your only warning y'all, Yes mpreg I've warned you, m/m - Freeform, overprotective dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_oftboys/pseuds/s_oftboys
Summary: Blackhat and Flug have quite a thing going on.  Apparently Blackhat's good at what he does, and Flug feared the worst.  Flug was careful, until one spontaneous night with too much champagne and brandy that lead to something neither of them really expected.Once Blackhat finds out Flug's carrying his first legitimate heir, Blackhat freaks.  A dozen trained security personnel, fences, and weird tracking technology that not even Flug would've thought of are implemented in order to keep Flug safe, and the scientist has no clue why.  He's got to be hiding something, something none of the personnel will tell him, so it's up to Flug to find out for himself...Blackhat may just be a tad bit too smart for his own good.This series contains romance, drama, action, suspense, mpreg, and M/M.  Teen and up reading audiences are recommended.





	1. Synopsis

If you think Blackhat lacks intelligence, you're dead wrong.  And you'd probably end up dead, if you underestimate him enough.

He's crazy smart; he might actually be smarter than me, and that's saying something.  Sometimes I'm worried he'll eventually lack a use for me, but then I remember; in this situation, he's the looks, I'm the brains.  Even if he has brains of his own.

He's got plenty of muscle, and, with my inventions, plenty of firepower too.  No one fucks with _him_.

Believe it or not, he's also amazing at sex.  There's a slight problem with that, though.

He's a demon, and demons can get pretty much anything pregnant if they screw it enough, which means I had to limit my contact with him, even if it almost physically hurt sometimes.  But I needed to keep him away, because being pregnant would seriously wreck my body and hinder my work.

And I tried, I really did, but a couple weeks back there was a milestone the company had hit, so there was champagne and brandy, and both of us being hammered led us to some serious bone-zone action, and...well, the demon has an heir now.

And holy Hell, being pregnant and a guy is just a God-awful mess.  Everything hurts, I'm constantly throwing up, and have been completely unable to eat.  I've even almost forgotten what Blackhat tastes like, because pretty much everything except for slight amounts of water revolts me, and Blackhat's no exception.  He thinks it's him, because I haven't told him about my condition yet.  He would flip his shit if he found out I was pregnant.

So I keep it from him, and fight my urge to throw up every time our lips meet.  Most of the time I don't win said fight, and can almost feel some sort of guilt emanating off of Blackhat as he holds my hair back in front of the toilet, but sometimes my gag reflex loses the battle, and we get to play "hide the carrot."  And it's amazing; he always is.

But one day, he gathers his suspicions and corners me with the question, and I tell him.  And he freaks out, just like I expected he would, but not quite in the severity I was imagining.  And that's where our story starts off...

 

"You...you're what??"  Blackhat inquired, his voice slow, barely a whisper.

"I'm pregnant.  You asked what was wrong with me, so I told you.  You're going to have a son or daughter," I mutter, my gag reflex threatening to make me throw up my insides, but it's not the baby; from panic.

He watches me for a moment, and I can almost hear the cogs and gears shifting in his head as he tries to figure out what to do.  Then he turns and rushes off without another word to me.

And that is when I cry.  A lot.


	2. Guards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guards - equipped with tasers and guns - are brought in, Blackhat is not initially in sight, and Flug makes the mistake of thinking the men are intruders...  
> After Flug's gotten the shit scared out of him, he goes to lie down. Blackhat finishes introducing the men to the house and then retreats to his office. He's awfully nervous about something...but what??

FLUG'S P.O.V:

The next morning, there's a truck outside.  An armored truck.  I see a troop of men in gray and black tactical suits, equipped with tasers and pistols, holstered in the utility-esque belts low on each of their hips.  And Blackhat is nowhere to be seen.

Panic sets in, and I frantically pull the curtains shut, lock the door to my lab, and ruffle my hands through a drawer until I find my ray gun.  I turn off the lights, get down on my hands and knees, and crawl behind a counter in the center of the lab, hiding me completely from anyone entering the room.

Just as I find a comfortable, yet action-ready, pose, I hear them thudding up the stairs.  They stride with complete confidence.  How well do they know the house??  Do they know that my lab is the third door on the right??

They stop.  There's a brief silence, and then one, two, three knocks, right on the lab door.  And silence.  For almost half a minute they wait before trying the doorknob - to no avail, thank God.

One of the men says, "Sir??"

There's a brief silence, then the sound of a key, and the door clicks.  It's unlocked.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears as the door slowly opens, just barely creaking on it's way.  There's around a dozen men stepping into my lab, not even 30 feet away from me at this very moment.  My eyes go down to the gun in my hands, which shakily fix their position on the grip.  One hit and there'll be a hole straight through one of them.  I just have to be more accurate with this thing than I ever have.

 _Stand, turn, shoot, drop back down_ , I think to myself.  _You'll hit something; if not one of them, something close enough to make them duck or jump, something to give you a few more seconds.  On the count of three.  One, two-_

"Flug??"

I suck in my breath, and gun slips between my fingers.  When it hits the ground it suddenly fires, toward the wall across from me, and burns a hole straight through and into my bedroom.

" _Francis!?!?_ "

I spot Blackhat running out of the corner of my eye immediately, and who rushes over when he spots me.  As he slips his fingers between mine and places his lips against my forehead, I realize how much I'm shaking.  I can't stop it, even as he pulls me closer and rests the side of my head against his chest.  The adrenaline's still pounding through me, and I'm shaking so much, still ready to fight or run, that even my teeth are chattering; audibly chattering.

"Why did you have a gun??"  His voice is gentle, but urgent, above my head.

Something in me clicks, and I shove myself off of him.  "Why do _they_ have guns!?  It nearly gave me a fucking heart attack watching a baker's dozen of men climb out of an _armored truck_ and go tromping through the house!!!  You weren't anywhere in sight, either!!!  How the _Hell_ was I supposed to know what was going on; I thought they were here to _kill_ me, to kill us!!"

My teeth still chatter in my head, my hands still tremble and shiver like I was dunked in an ice bath, and yet there's a seething rage pulsing through me, licking like flames at my insides, threatening to burst through my skin and make me slap him.  _This is his fault, his fault, his fault!!_

I'm broken out of my fervor when I feel his hand running through my hair.  His eyes watch my every move, and he gently squeezes my hand.

"Flug, I'm so sorry...I should've said something, but I was worried you'd flip out.  They're only here to protect you, and that's it."

"Why do  _I_ need protecting??"

"Because," and he kisses my forehead again.

"'Because' and kisses isn't going to work on me, you know," I mumble.  I pull away from Blackhat for a moment and whisper, "Why do I really need to be protected??  If there's someone-"

"There's _no one_.  I'm just making sure you're as safe as possible. Now just relax."

I narrow my eyes and watch him for a moment, and cup his chin in my hand.  He stays steady, his expression unchanging, even as I make intense eye contact, and then he presses his lips to mine.

I shake my head.  "Whatever.  I'm going to bed."

Blackhat looks to the hole in the wall.  "Speaking of, I need to call someone in to fix that."

I chuckle, and stand.  I glance at all the men, standing there semi-awkwardly in their finely-tailored suits.  "Hello, gentlemen."

They all nod, cock their heads at me, make a little wave, or return the "hello."  The ones who actually return the "hello" are immediately my favorites.

Blackhat stands as well, and says, "Well, gentlemen, this is the genius behind all Blackhat Incorporated devices, Dr. Flug," his eyes turn dark, and his voice leaves menace in the air for the men.  "That is _all_ you may call him."

I rest my hand on his shoulder and say, " _No_ , you can call me Flug or even Francis."

"They _cannot_ call you Francis, that's what I call you in the-"

"Shush.  They can if they want to."

Blackhat narrows his eyes, but calms.  "Fine.  Now go lie down."

"Maybe I don't want to now."

He covers his face with his hands and just barely growls with frustration.  I chuckle again.

I smile at the men.  "I love playing this game with him.  He's so easy to fuck with."

He turns his head and glares at me, but still squeezes my hand beneath the counter top so I know he's not actually _that_ mad at me.  I love when he does that, when he pretends to be mad but still shows off how much he cares.

"Alright, alright, I'm going to bed," I mumble, and start towards my bedroom door; before I step in, though, Blackhat ambushes me from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I love you," he mumbles under his breath, and he nuzzles my neck.

"I love you, too," I whisper.

And with that, he lets me go, and I snuggle up in bed.

 

BLACKHAT'S P.O.V:

Flug's just gone to sleep - he's lightly snoring, I can hear through the hole in his bedroom wall - and my heart's still pounding from the gunshot.  I seriously thought he'd hurt himself.  He must've not heard my pulse if he didn't say anything about it, thank God.

I turn to the men and fold my hands in front of me.  "Sorry about that confusion, gentlemen.  You are only allowed to call him Dr. Flug, no matter what he says.  Simply Flug and Francis are off-limits."

The men firmly nod.

"Now I'll show you to my office and my bedroom."

I lead them, walking quickly, to both rooms, and when I finished, I said, "You'll usually be able to find me in those two rooms during the afternoon."

They nod, and follow, and are generally quiet.  It feels almost awkward, having these men say pretty much nothing.

I turn.  "Well, that should conclude your tour of the house.  Any questions??"

"What's up with Dr. Flug??"  One of the men pipes up, but there's too many of them and the quip was too quick to tell which one said it.

"What do you mean??"

"I mean why's he...jittery sometimes??"

"Well, the world hasn't been too... _kind_ to our doctor.  Suffering from manic depressive disorder - AKA manic depression or bipolar disorder - and PTSD from constant abuse as a small child all the way into adolescence has left him a little...mentally unstable.  Now, I don't mean he freaks out at everything, or everything triggers something in him, but you do need to be rather... _gentle_ with him.  Watch how you word questions, don't ask about his past, things like that.  If you accidentally said something you shouldn't have and he begins to go through a panic episode, don't leave him to go get me or someone else, the best you can do for him is sit there with him and hold his hand until he comes out of it."

The men were all silent.

"Now, begin your rounds.  Helmsley, Richardson, Donald, west side; Johnson, Williams, Jones, east side; Smith, Miller, Wilson, north side; Jackson, Harris, Thompson, south side.  Go."

The men all took off, and I was left alone in my office.  I slowly crossed the room, taking at seat at my desk and leaning back.  I opened up a drawer and spotted the envelope, the letter inside contained by a wax seal with my father's initials.  I'd been too disturbed by the announcement of Flug's pregnancy a couple days ago to read it, but I might as well see what's going on now.  I took out the letter opener and made a slit in the top of the envelope, then removing the letter and unfolding it.

" _I know about the child, Michelangelo.  Word travels fast when you're famous - or, should I say, infamous?? - doesn't it??  I'm proud of you for finding someone suitable for carrying your first-born, but you remember our deal, Michael._ "

All the blood drained from my face, from my whole body, leaving me feeling cold and numb.  Of course I remembered our deal - his house, nearly all of his money, everything but his most prized possessions, for my first-born - but I never though he would actually come after me for my own child; I didn't even think I'd ever _have_ a child!!  It's his _grandchild_ , for God's sake...!!  What is he even gonna do with the kid!?  My mind immediately goes to the worst, the absolute worst, thoughts that make me wish I could go curl up in bed with Flug, but now's not the time for that.  No, no, no, I need new tech.  I can't trust that old geezer; he's almost as smart as me, and that's terrifying to think about when he's coming after my kid.

I stand, leaving the letter on my desk, and rushed into Flug's lab.  I notice the hole in the wall again, and I still hear him gently snoring through it.

_Still have to call someone in to fix that, but right now, I need tech.  High-quality tech.  And I don't know if anywhere offers what I'm looking for, and I can't trust Flug to not ask questions if I request he make me anything._

I shuffle through all of Flug's tools, all his materials, and have no idea what to do with half of them, and I cuss myself out; why hadn't I paid more attention in welding, in woodshop, in physics, in anything that would pertain to these...things??

I take a deep breath, and think.  And think, and think, and think.  And then I grab a blowtorch and a couple pieces of metal.  I piece something random together to get myself reacquainted with the tools.  And I do this over and over again, frantically, with everything I recognize, and then test with the things I don't.

Unfortunately, I wake Flug.

"What are you doing out here??  You've made the whole lab - and my bedroom - unbelievably warm, and you're making a ruckus," he murmurs, half-asleep.

I shrink away from him and his question.  "Nothing," I mumble.

Flug stands there and watches me for a second.  "While I realize that that's obviously bullshit, would you mind telling me what the Hell is actually going on, why I've suddenly got a dozen guards and you're spontaneously so interested in my tools??"

I almost shudder at his firm tone.  "You're too smart for your own damn good."

"Because I _know_ something's going on.  You don't randomly hire guards for me and only me for no reason," he steps closer, rests his hand on my shoulder.  His voice is gentle, "You know you can tell me anything, right??"

Just his voice alone makes me want to spill everything.  It makes me want to hold him and kiss him and tell him everything about the deal and what was to become of our child and just...everything wanted to spill out of me.

But I hid everything, because I don't want to worry him.  "Everything's fine.  I'm just curious.  I see you messing around with all these tools and materials, making amazing things with them, and I don't know the names of half of them, so I wanted to see what everything did."

Flug was silent for a moment.  His brow was furrowed as he glanced down, deep in thought.  _Please don't call me out again, please don't call me out again, please don't-_

"Alright, Michael.  Just...remember what I said, okay??"  His voice is so soft I can barely hear it.  Or maybe it's the pounding of my heart that's making him hard to hear.

"I'll remember, Francis.  I _promise._ "

"Thank you, Blackhat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe this chapter probably sucks ASS but whatever, quite a few of y'all seemed to like "Synopsis", so I wanted to write more. Keep this thing going, because I like writing mpreg this sort of stuff, y'know??  
> (Just realized that I probably say "y'know" and "y'all" way too much, god fuckin' damnit.)  
> Anyway, if you actually liked this, feel free to leave a Kudos or a Comment!! Really any feedback is greatly appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand that's it!! Sorry it's so short, that wasn't quite my intention uwu;; It looked WAYYYY longer in my deviantART Sta.sh. Then again, I was using an almost typewriter font, so it was probably bigger than the normal one.  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading this, more so for sticking to the end, and I hope the mpreg thing didn't freak you out too much!! I tried to not go into too much detail, so as to not scare off a lot of people. Make it a minor aspect and bring it into a brighter light later on the story sort of thing, y'know??   
> I've never actually submitted something with mpreg in it - I find to be more of a secret, since I have people I know in real life who follow my deviantART - and it feels like I'm daring people to send me death threats every time I have the idea to write a new one, but I feel that AO3 is a more accepting place, and there are more people who like reading about that sort of thing.  
> So, if you did like this, feel free to leave a Comment or Kudos!! If you didn't...well, I kinda expected that, but please don't threaten me or anything too crazy like that because I wrote something you don't enjoy!!  
> ~Whether you liked this or not, I hope you have a lovely day!!~


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